


Just One More, Then I'm Going Home

by catsonfire



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Childhood Trauma, Comedy, Enemies to Friends, Erwin "Booty Shorts" Smith, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Foster Dad!Levi, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nobody is Dead, Rivalry, Transfem!Hanji, eren is not a great teacher, it's bully jean hours lads, jean has trust issues, teacher!Eren, though begrudging lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 15:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21530113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsonfire/pseuds/catsonfire
Summary: “Listen. I know this isn’t ideal. But just bear with it for a little while, yeah?”Jean wants to die. My god, he wants to die. He wants to curl up under the couch cushion he’s seated on and suffocate himself with it. There’s no way this is going to be any better than the last place, no way in hell.“Yeah,” he says instead, voice flat and dead even to his own ears. “Just a little while.”Foster AU. Teen-teen and adult-adult relationships only. Tags will be updated in the future and ratings will change when smut is posted. Both main pairings will be decently prominent, though the storyline does focus primarily on Jean's perspective.
Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Mikasa Ackerman/Annie Leonhart, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Just One More, Then I'm Going Home

**Author's Note:**

> so while I'm working on danger days i decided to revive an old storyline i had set aside where levi fosters jean. i've highkey been planning this since like 2013 just like danger days ;;;;; but you know. good things come in time lol  
> also look ma! my first real jeanmarco!
> 
> my OG GinandSin gets partial credit bc she helped me with the title and is, as usual, out here absolutely slaughtering the game with excellent stoyline additions.

“Listen. I know this isn’t ideal. But just bear with it for a little while, yeah?” 

Jean wants to die. My god, he wants to die. He wants to curl up under the couch cushion he’s seated on and suffocate himself with it. There’s no way this is going to be any better than the last place, no way in hell. 

“Yeah,” he says instead, voice flat and dead even to his own ears. “Just a little while.” 

Jean is seated in the living room of a single man in his thirties, a dwarf (not really) with black hair, grey dead-looking eyes and this seemingly permanent look of disgust on his face. He may be dressed smartly, but that’s not enough to fool Jean. He’s been through so many shitty foster homes since his tween years that he didn’t trust any single, close-to-middle-aged man, and especially not this one.

This man’s name is Levi. Jean’s been informed that he’s an RN, working full time at a veteran’s hospital. In the teen’s opinion, the house is too nice for someone who works as an RN. There has to be some side business. His living room is deceivingly normal, but weren’t they all? He observes the black-haired man who stands across from him, arms crossed over his chest. He’s dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, slacks and expensive-looking work shoes, a nice watch on his wrist. He’s not exactly stocky or thick, but if looks could kill… Jean decides that maybe he should watch his mouth around this one. 

Levi huffs a breath that draws Jean’s attention back to the matter at hand. 

“You cool with taking the school bus?” Levi asks, tilting his head and looking out the window as if he were searching for a distraction. “I’m out of the house most mornings before seven for work. I can look into changing my schedule--” 

“No!” Jean winces at his urgency and corrects himself. “I mean, that’s fine. The school bus, that is. Totally fine.” 

If Jean didn’t know any better, he might think that Levi looks relieved. No, no, that’s exactly how he fucking looks. The corners of the fucker’s mouth are turned upward just enough to notice and his demeanor relaxes completely. He uncrosses his arms and rubs the back of his neck before regarding Jean once more. 

“Great. Well. This is weird enough. I’m going to work,” Levi mutters and he steps over to the coat hanger by the front door. He tugs a jacket off and slips it over his shoulders before shooting Jean a backward glance. “Breakfast is in the kitchen where I showed you last night, eat whatever but clean up after yourself. The bus will stop at the stop sign on our block, should be number sixteen. Do you have your house key?” 

Jean fights the urge to roll his eyes and flashes the key looped onto the light cord around his neck. Levi nods.

“Good. Don’t lose it. And hey.” The older man waits until he has Jean’s undivided attention once again to speak. “Make this as easy for yourself as you can. You seem smart. Prove that you are.” 

Levi’s out the door in a quick second, snatching his keys off of the key holder and waving an almost dismissive hand at Jean on his way out. The door latches safely behind him but doesn’t slam and Jean’s not sure why he expects it to. Something about the exchange lights an indignant fire inside of him, while also spreading warmth into his chest. He’d forgotten the feeling of being treated like a person instead of a nuisance. 

+

_School is the same no matter where you go, huh?_

The old building smells identical to the last school he’d landed himself in. He may have only been there for a few weeks before he’d been shoved back into the system, but it was long enough to leave an impression. In the last few years, he’d found himself something of an expert in pissing people off and getting himself into fights. Last time he hadn’t even fought back and he was still reprimanded. Another strike on his record. He doesn’t get attached to his “friends” anymore, knowing he’s just going to get pushed along to another family and another school in another town. He fights for good grades so that he at least had something to show for himself but that’s difficult when you jump from curriculum to curriculum. Different schools have different methods of teaching, different expectations. 

After a fairly relaxed bus ride to school, he’s ushered into the counselor’s office. He’s given a piece of paper with his daily schedule printed on it, and then shooed out just as quickly. The school seems to be smaller than most he’s attended if the outward appearance of the structure and the overabundance of parking spaces in student parking is anything to go by. 

First period is biology. The classroom walls are a clutter of posters and encouraging quotes with silly animal pictures befitting of an eccentric science teacher. There are a few animal cages and an entire wall of reptile terrariums. Their teacher lunges into the classroom like a madwoman and not a soul in the classroom flinches but him. 

“ _Helloooo_ everyone!” she shouts across the room when she makes it to the center of the class whiteboard. 

Jean knows damn well that there’s no reason for a high school biology teacher to be wearing a lab coat, but there she is. Wearing a lab coat. Her glasses are pushed onto the top of her head and holding her bangs out of her eyes, her brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She has the wildest grin he’s ever seen on a teacher before. Jean sinks into his chair in an attempt to shrink out of sight. He knows what insane teachers usually mean. 

“Everyone, you have a new classmate!” Eyes are on him and there it is again, that urge to just kind of die. “Mr. Jean Kirstein, please come up to the front!” 

His face burns and he tries to hide it behind a hand. Some of the kids near him laugh but shift their gazes when he looks at them over his fingers. The woman encourages him once more and he sighs, probably a bit too loudly to still be respectful, and his chair screeches loudly against the waxed floor when he pushes back from his desk. Begrudgingly, he makes his way up to the front of the class with her to face the class. 

They don’t seem to be taking _too_ much joy in his pain, at least. They have to know he’s likely to go through this several times today with his luck. There were a few sympathetic glances thrown his way, though the general impression was uninterested and unimpressed. For some reason that pissed him off. 

“Well, I am Ms. Zoë,” she says, patting his back with one arm and waving the other out to her side in a showy fashion. “Go ahead, kiddo! Introduce yourself.” 

Jean coughs nervously, but a small girl in the front row gives him an encouraging smile and he manages to steel himself. 

“My name is Jean, obviously,” he begins, pulling out his best people-pleasing grin. He hasn’t done that in a while. “Uh, I originally grew up in Nevada. I’ve moved around a lot, though, because of, uh. Family stuff. Anyway. That’s-- That’s about it.” 

He looks to his teacher, who grins at him expectantly. He clears his throat and laughs abashedly, clamming up. 

“Uh--”

“Awesome!” she explodes, and he jerks with surprise. Someone laughs in the classroom and fails to stifle it. “Okay, so, you’re gonna want a buddy. What’s your next period?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay--”

“What’s your next period, Mr. Kirstein?” 

Ms. Zoë’s smile is wide and well-intentioned enough. The class seems to be acquainted with her overwhelming energy and upbeat personality. He mutters under his breath as he fishes his schedule out of his back pocket and holds it out for the teacher to accept. She’s seemingly oblivious to his pain as she unfolds it excitedly. 

“Alright, who has health for second period?” she asks, peering over the paper to look through her students. More than half of the class raise their hand and Jean reels at how small these classes had to be. Ms. Zoë begins to mutter under her breath as she looks through the students, thinking aloud, “Ah, definitely not. You two would fight… Oh, she’s far too cute--” 

_Does she have no filter? At all?_

“Ah! Marco. You’re a sweetheart, you’re perfect. Everyone else drop ‘em so Mr. Kirstein can see where he is.” 

All hands drop aside from one boy’s. He smiles sheepishly, freckled cheeks reddening with embarrassment. He looks to be a bit taller than Jean, but he’s about the same age. He’s got short dark hair and he’s dressed in a fucking _sweater vest_ . He is also trying to make himself appear smaller and smaller by the moment, eyes in the classroom turning their attention to him all at once. Some of them are grinning, some look a little surprised, maybe worried. _It’s impossible to gauge anything based on the reactions in this class. They’re unpredictable._

“Excellent,” the biology teacher says proudly, leading Jean towards Marco’s seat with her arm around his shoulders. No filter, and no sense of personal space. “Hannah, sweetheart, would you swap seats with Jean? Ah, thank you.” 

The red-haired girl sitting next to Marco shyly gathers her things and shuffles over to Jean’s previous desk. Ms. Zoë laughs excitedly and ushers Jean to sit down next to Marco before she skips away, back to the front of the class. She begins rambling about something completely unrelated to biology as Jean settles into his chair, sinking down and rubbing a hand over his mouth. He had been so fucking wrong about this place and he was only in first period. 

“Hey.” 

Marco’s gentle voice derails Jean’s entire train of thought and his head whips around furiously. Marco’s eyes raise with the action and he leans back in his chair a little. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Marco says, embarrassed now. What the fuck does he have to be embarrassed about? He hadn’t just gotten paraded around the room like a fancy animal. Still, Jean feels merciful at the look on the boy’s face. Guilty. “I wanted to apologize for Ms. Zoë, she’s just… That way. She doesn’t mean any harm.” 

“I figured. But, uh, no. It isn’t your fault, don’t worry. Sorry that you got sucked into that.” 

Marco beams at him, embarrassment gone in a flash. 

“So, where did you move here from? You said you moved around a lot?” 

_Ahhh. At least he’s nice._

“I was living in Florida for a while,” he replies, retaining his composure. “It’s crap compared to here.” 

“Colorado is beautiful,” Marco agrees. His smile is almost too pure. Jean feels a mixture of anxiety and distrust mix in his stomach, undeserved. “Florida can be beautiful too though, I suppose. I hope you like it here. It can get pretty cold in the winter, but luckily we aren’t in the mountains.” 

It’s too genuine. People aren’t _just that way_ these days. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Jaeger is a lot calmer than Ms. Zoë, he’s our health teacher, but he teaches English too. He can be pretty funny.” 

Jean manages a grin and says, “As long as he’s just a little bit calmer than her, I think we’ll be solid.” 

Marco laughs softly and smiles at Jean in a way that makes Jean’s stomach twist a little. God, these trust issues were going to be the death of him. Would it be so bad to trust this kid? It’s not like they would get too close, he wouldn’t stick around long enough for any of that. But maybe he could allow himself to find temporary comfort in a friend. 

“He’s kind of cute, too, if you ask me,” Marco says with a wink, and Jean’s mouth goes fucking _dry._ A twinge of irritation hits him. “But don’t tell him I said that! It’d be super weird. He’s, like, our only English teacher.” 

“Alright, guys!” 

Ms. Zoë’s voice drags their attention to the front of the class again and the nauseous feeling in Jean’s gut doesn’t budge. 

_It’s fine. It’s just biology class. So I’ll have a couple of classes with the dude. I can just fake my own death if he ends up being a piece of shit or something._

“Marco, be a doll and share your textbook with Jean, please,” Ms. Zoë says cheerfully, and Jean reminisces on his couch cushion fantasy from just an hour and a half earlier. “Page one-twenty-two!” 

_+_

He hates this Mr. Jaeger guy the moment he meets him. He’s too fucking young to be teaching two different subjects in Jean’s opinion. He can’t be much older than twenty-six or so. He has messy brown hair, big green-blue eyes, and a dumb fucking smirk on his face. When Jean and Marco step into the classroom, he’s leaning up against his desk, his legs and arms crossed. Smirking. With the stupid sleeves of his stupid button-up rolled up to his elbows, and did he _absolutely need_ to wear pants that were so fucking tight? He was in a classroom full of teenagers for Christ’s sake. 

(Jean could stand to say that it was just a grin and not a smirk, but he doesn’t trust the guy. He trusts him less than he usually trusts people, which is very little, to begin with.) 

“Hey guys,” Mr. Jaeger greets them when they step into the classroom. The rest of the class is present for the most part; they had taken their time as Marco had shown him through the halls and pointed out things like the gymnasium, the direction to the football field, different apparently need-to-know locations throughout the school. “I was getting worried you got lost. Not surprised you’re the one leading the new kid around, though, Marco.” 

“Ms. Zoë volunteered me,” Marco says lightly, but he’s smiling. “I don’t mind though. Jean’s very nice.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Jean.” 

The teacher extends his hand out to Jean to shake, and the teen ignores it easily, brushing past him towards the desks. He picks one out that he’s pleased with and plops down into the seat unceremoniously, glaring at the man from where he sits. Mr. Jaeger’s stunned expression pisses him off, but not as much as the little grin he shoots Jean’s way when he recovers. 

_He thinks this is some game. Cocky bastard._

“Alright, then,” Mr. Jaeger murmurs before he pushes away from the desk and stands up straight. He steps over to the classroom door as the last student steps in and pulls it closed in time for the bell. “Well, Mina, I’m sorry but it seems like Mr. Kirstein has decided to take your seat. Would you mind sitting up front for today?” 

Jean’s face heats. _This fucker._

The girl shuffles over to her new seat without hesitation and Marco finds his own desk. Biology hadn’t had assigned seating, so why does this douche think he is special enough to deserve assigned seats? There is so much wrong with this dude. He's treating his students like they're his best friends, he's lazily resting up against walls and furniture. He can’t fathom how Marco finds him cute. 

“Okay, so, textbook time,” the older man says. He snags an extra off of the classroom bookshelf and lets it drop with a loud _slam_ to Jean’s desk. He maintains eye contact with the teen before he steps jauntily back to the front of the classroom. “Today we’ll be getting onto the topic of mental health, specifically common disorders and symptoms.” 

Mr. Jaeger drops down behind his desk and pulls open his own textbook. He peers up and back to the class, and more specifically Jean, grinning widely now. 

“Let’s start with narcissistic tendencies.” 

  
  


+

Third period is spent in Ms. Zoë’s class for Chemistry, but this time without Marco. The class drags on without someone to talk to or at least ease his tension, and that’s when he realizes that he’s let the other boy affect him too much already. He groans as he leans forward and rests his forehead against his desk while Ms. Zoë keeps up with her incessant rambling. She’ll get to the point, when she does he knows by now she’ll probably address the class as she had before. 

Something taps his shoulder and he swings upward, head snapping in the direction of his assailant. 

She’s beautiful. She has grey eyes and black hair, a lot like Levi, but she’s obviously much prettier. Her hair hangs down to her shoulders and she’s wrapped snugly in a dark blue overcoat. And she is certainly not smiling at him. She stares at his forehead for a moment before her eyes meet his. 

“Hey,” he says smoothly, his best attempt at being suave. Her expression doesn’t change. “What’s up?”

“You need to get a textbook or you’ll be lost. They’re up front.” 

Ah. It’s gonna be like that. Jean versus the world. 

His saving grace after the bullshit with Mr. Jaeger is showing up to the gymnasium and watching Marco light up like a cute little lamp when he sees him. 

“You have fourth period gym too?” Marco asks excitedly, trotting over to him. He’s changed into a t-shirt and some shorts for the class. It’s like his own blessing that Marco will still put up with him after making an ass of himself. “Oh, do you have a change of clothes?” 

“Not yet,” Jean answers, shrugging. “Do I need it?” 

“Not really, but Mr. Smith prefers it. He might let you sit out for your first day.” 

He does. Mr. Smith is a tall man, blonde, handsome, and absolutely the most embarrassing thing Jean’s ever seen. He struts into the gymnasium wearing sports shorts that are _far_ too short and regards Jean very quickly and professionally, guiding him to the bleachers when he finds he has no gym clothes. 

“Make sure you come back with a change tomorrow,” the man says easily, a charming smile gracing his lips. “Today you can just relax, though. I’m sure it’s been an eventful day already.” 

_A drastic understatement._

While they’re running their warm-up laps, Jean waves Marco down, spurred on by the realization that he and Marco could only have so many classes together. 

“Oh, English? I take English four, I took an advanced class that got me the extra credit,” Marco says, smiling apologetically. He’s a lovely specimen, Jean decides, even with sweat starting to bead upon his forehead, even when he’s a bit out of breath. “But next is lunch, and we all take that together! Even the teachers are there for most of it.” 

He supposes at least there’s that. 

+

_“Good afternoon, Trost High Cowboys!”_

Jean’s fork creaks sadly in his grip when he tenses at the sound of _Mr. Fucking Jaeger’s_ voice over the intercom system. He’s seated across from Marco, the darling, who shoots him a sympathetic expression. He’s probably caught onto his new arch-nemesis. Jean certainly hasn’t been quiet or vague about his distaste for Mr. Jaeger. A few of Marco’s friends sit at the table with them-- the girl from chemistry is one of them, her name is Mikasa. A blonde boy by the name of Armin sits next to her, and then another boy named Connie. There’s an empty chair next to Connie that he rests his legs on in order to save it for another classmate. 

“Why don’t you like Mr. Jaeger?” Marco asks, disappointed. It’s not fair. “He’s pretty nice.” 

“He’s new, but he’s been doing really well with the students so far!” Armin quips from across the table before taking a sip from his water bottle. “He’s popular with a lot of the people here, at least.”

“I noticed.” Jean groans and rubs his eyes. 

_“Our very own Trost Cowgirls won the home volleyball game last night, and that’s pretty cool. How about that?”_

Students clap through the cafeteria and a group of girls hoot and holler from a secluded table. They must be a clique. The sound of the teacher’s voice rambling about school-related subjects grates on Jean’s nerves and he stabs at his measly pile of broccoli. His luck with this new school had been shit so far. Of course, he would find a mortal enemy out of his health teacher. One of his last classes of the day would be with Mr. Jaeger again, and this time there would be no Marco to soften the blow. 

The annoying voice finally cuts off and students throughout the cafeteria resume their chattering. Jean sighs with relief and he shovels food into his mouth ravenously. A girl named Sasha joins their table and takes the seat that Connie had been saving. She regards him quickly before digging into her gargantuan pile of food. He enjoys the atmosphere around his classmates so far, even if he’s spent the entire time brooding. They aren’t outright dragging them into their culture, but they’re opening it up to him. That’s a good sign, he thinks. Maybe this will be okay. 

“Mr. Jaeger, have you picked out the next assigned reading yet?” Armin’s voice breaks his peace. _Oh_ , the couch cushion fantasy just gets better. 

“Not yet,” comes the answer, and Jean banefully glowers up at him from his food. He steps up to the table with a level of familiarity that Jean realizes he may just have to get used to. He didn’t have to like it. “Once we finish The Catcher in the Rye, I guess we’ll need to find another classic.” 

_I read The Catcher in the Rye in fucking eighth grade. What is this clown teaching these kids?_

When the man reaches over and ruffles Mikasa’s hair and asks her how her day has been, Jean decides he needs a plan of action. This man must die somehow. He was a cramp in Jean’s side, a sore on his foot, a ram head sticker in his blanket. This was completely inappropriate, and he was taking the attention of his own classmates away from him. 

Mr. Jaeger catches his eye out of the corner of his own and smiles angelically. 

_He knows._

_+_

Mathematics is decent, with Mr. Smith as his teacher again, and thankfully without the shorts. In English, Mr. Jaeger slams yet another book down onto his desk. With an innocent smile, he asks, “Hey, you can catch up with the class right? We’re on chapter eighteen.” Jean grits his teeth and fakes a smile, nodding mechanically. With the worst of the day out of the way, art class and economics go by like lightning. All of his pain and suffering leading up to sixth period English was worth it. 

Marco waits for him outside in the courtyard. This time, Jean is the one who lights up when he sees him, his pace picking up to meet him halfway. Marco fiddles with the strap of his bag, shy or nervous. 

“I know you’ve had a rough day. I’ll treat you to something if you like,” Marco says, voice kind, music to his ears. “Do you like frozen yogurt?” 

“You have no idea how incredible that would be.” 

_+_

He waves goodbye to Marco when they arrive at Levi’s front porch after they've exchanged phone numbers. You know, for homework purposes. He had shot the older man a text about not taking the bus home and walking with Marco instead-but received no reply. He peers down into the paper bowl of frozen yogurt in his hands, still mostly frozen from the cool fall air and takes a few bites, savoring the serene sounds of the outdoors and a moment of alone time before he enters the unknown again. 

This is normal. This is what usually happens. 

The first few days are always the hardest. He has to adjust to the new environment and the new rules his foster parents have for him. It’s a little strange only having one, but he feels like he’ll be able to live more freely than he has in the past if his lack of chastising for not taking the bus was anything to go off of. Maybe it was that Levi didn’t actually give a fuck about him, and that would be the best-case scenario. Jean fishes the key off of his neck and unlocks the front door. He shuffles inside and sets his frozen yogurt down on the small table by the front door where Levi keeps a tacky decorative vase, a box of tissues and hand sanitizer. _Like an old lady,_ he thinks absently, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up on the coat rack. The smell of food floods through the house and he sighs, mouth-watering, even despite his frozen yogurt snack. He picks it back up and swallows down a few more bites. 

The sound of two voices from the kitchen surprises him, though. 

_Did he invite someone over? A little weird for my first official day here…_

“I’m back,” he calls through the house, and the voices go quiet. Ominous, but okay. He works his way through the entryway and the living room before stepping into the kitchen. “Sorry, I shot you a text--” 

Jean’s grip tightens around the frozen yogurt bowl. 

Standing by the stove is, of fucking course, his godforsaken English and health teacher. He’s got an apron wrapped around his waist and around his shoulders. In his hand is a spoonful of what Jean assumes is taco meat, judging by the smell. He holds it out to Levi and the older man takes a bite of it, chewing for a moment before nodding and turning to chop tomatoes on the countertop. “Perfect, like usual,” Levi says absently and then scrapes the tomatoes off into a serving dish. “I just need to chop the lettuce and it’ll be ready.”

“Sounds good,” his t _eacher_ says, and absently leans over and kisses the top of Levi’s head. _Kisses it._ He freezes for just a moment before pulling back and shifts his attention back to Jean. “Ah. Welcome home, Jean.”


End file.
